


Warm Me Up

by lilbluednacer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lydia is not a fan of winter, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 04:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12927633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbluednacer/pseuds/lilbluednacer
Summary: Stiles will always be there to keep her warm.





	Warm Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I write fluff now.

It's past five o'clock in the afternoon and Lydia Martin is freezing her ass off.

The exposed lobes of her ears are surely turning red, she can't feel her face anymore, and her toes have gone numb inside her boots. Lydia stomps her feet, her breath hanging like an icy curtain in the air. She doesn't know if she believes in hell but if it exists she's sure that it's just like this - Boston, in winter, harsh and unforgivable, so cold it burns like fire.

By the time the Jeep rumbles up to the curb she's blinking back miserable tears and sniffing furiously, lest her boyfriend pick her up from class with snot running down her face. She runs down the short length of sidewalk and yanks the passenger door open, dumps her bag on the floor and flings herself into the car, slamming the door shut before she can let the cold air in.

"Fuck," she hisses, taking off her gloves and holding her hands up to the vent. "I'm fucking freezing."

"Lovely to see you too," Stiles says cheerfully. "The drive was fine, thanks for asking."

"Freezing," she reiterates. "Everywhere."

"You could've waited inside," he says mildly, putting on his turn signal and pulling the Jeep into traffic.

"It's dark out, I wouldn't have been able to see you from the window," she reminds him, wincing as she flexes her fingers. "And you said five, excuse me for believing you'd be here when you said you would."

"I could've called you when I got here. And I'm only like six minutes late, what's with the crucifixion?"

"Look, could you just drive and keep the commentary to yourself?" Lydia snaps.

She winces when she sees the way he recoils at her tone. He drove from D.C. to spend the weekend with her and she's so cold right now that she doesn't remember how to be nice. Lydia sighs guiltily, curling her frozen toes up inside her boots, staring at the blur of lights out the window as he drives.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I'm just really"-

"Cold, yeah, I got that." There's no venom in his tone, only sympathy.

Stiles turns the heat up all the way and reaches over the console to squeeze her thigh under the fabric of the heavy knit Burberry trench coat her mother special-ordered from Saks Fifth Avenue as an early Christmas present. Lydia leans her head back against the seat as Stiles drives to her apartment building and pulls the Jeep into the underground parking garage. He finds an open space to park in and Lydia pulls out a guest pass that she keeps in her wallet for exactly this reason and slaps it on the windshield before getting out the car. Stiles turns around and digs his backpack out from the backseat before getting out of the Jeep and locking it, his free hand held out to her.

Lydia curls her fingers around his and they cross the garage to the elevator, take it up to the fifth floor and walk down the hallway to her apartment. She has a one bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and a small but luxurious open concept kitchen/living room. She likes it better when Stiles is here, it's less lonely with his hoodies flung over chairs and his books open on her coffee table. She kicks her boots off on the foyer and hangs her coat up, watching him drop his backpack on the floor next to the kitchen island and unzip his sweatshirt. He's not even wearing a proper coat, the idiot. 

"Hey, do you have tea? I can make you tea," he offers.

She shakes her head, strands of hair tickling her face. "I need to take a hot shower or I'll never get warm." She shoulders her bag, walking through the small kitchen to kiss his warm cheek, resisting the urge to snuggle her whole face under his chin. "Can you order takeout?"

"Thai or pizza?"

"Thai," she decides. "The menu's on the fridge."

Stiles catches her by the wrist, spinning her around so he can hug her from behind, dropping his nose to the top of her head and inhaling. He loves her hair, is borderline obsessed with it. Lydia leans back in his embrace, lips curving up in a smile. "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Stiles snorts and kisses the crown of her head before untangling their arms. "I'll order food, go warm up."

Lydia goes into her bedroom and leaves the door open, peeling off her clothing with stiff fingers as Stiles' voice floats through from the kitchen. She walks naked to the bathroom, arms crossed tightly under her breasts, her white thighs splotched with red from being outside in the cold. She flips on the light switch and turns the shower on, quickly braids her hair and pins it up to keep it dry while the water warms up.

When it's reached a sufficient temperature Lydia steps inside, inhaling steam and letting out a slow sigh of relief. She turns her back to the spray and tips her chin down towards her chest to stretch her neck, hot water raining down on her shoulders. She rests one palm against the tiled wall and shuts her eyes, her muscles finally unwinding. The tension in her body melts away with the water, her stomach suddenly warm and aching at the prospect of food and later, sex, crawling under the covers with Stiles, who runs so warm she can't sleep in anything more than a pair of shorts and a bralette or she'll wake up slick with sweat, his body better than a space heater.

She twitches when the shower curtain slides open but it's only Stiles, naked and smiling, stepping into the shower with his arms outstretched. Lydia shuffles over to him; her head only goes up to his chest in bare feet and she presses her face right into his sternum, humming with delight at the feeling of his skin on hers.

"Feeling better?" He sounds amused, his hands sliding into the dip of her waist like they were made to fit there.

She nods against his chest, her eyes slipping shut again as his hands glide around to her back, creeping slowly down to her ass. "Sorry," she apologizes again. "About earlier. I get bitchy when I'm on the cusp of hypothermia."

"Poor Lydia," he says, light and teasing. "You and your thin California blood."

"Don't make fun, hypothermia is a serious medical condition," she teases back.

"Oh really?" Stiles' voice suddenly goes grave and serious but his eyes are twinkling. "I better warm you up then."

She smiles against his chest. "Give it your best shot."

His hands leave her ass but then they're pressing her thighs apart, Lydia spreads her legs open for him in the narrow shower, reaching down to grip his hipbones for balance. His hand cups between her legs and she swallows a gasp, shivering when two of his fingers start to stroke, slow and firm, just the way she likes it.

"How's that?" he murmurs, curling over her, his left arm coming around her back to anchor her body to him.

"Mmm, I think I need more," she sighs playfully, lifting her head up to look at him through her eyelashes. "I was _really_ cold."

"Don't worry." Stiles bends down and kisses the bridge of her nose. "I'll always be here to warm you back up."

Lydia tilts her chin back for a kiss, a real one, and Stiles complies, lips firm against hers, hot water and steam swirling around them, his hand between her legs stoking a slow building fire until the ice melts and she's nothing but a burning flame.


End file.
